


to the curl of your lips, in the center of eclipse

by nebulah



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, M/M, hnng yeah im soft, spoilers for Crimson Flower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulah/pseuds/nebulah
Summary: "Hubert hasn’t looked up from his paperwork since.  As he finally finishes, though, he glances up to find Ferdinand draped across the armrest.  His hair is past his shoulders now, and it’s shockingly bright against the deep plum of the fabric.  Hubert glances beside the unconscious Prime Minister to see several stacks of papers, many with Ferdinand’s signature already written in looping script.Ever since their school days, Ferdinand’s signature has been ostentatious.  Dramatic and round, barely fitting in the spaces provided.  Hubert remembers the annoyance with which he forged it once, when he was eighteen.  He can’t recall what he needed signed, or why he couldn’t simply ask Ferdinand to sign it himself."Alternatively: There are 1825 days between the Professor's disappearance and her return.  Five years of war in which Hubert finds more light than he ever imagined.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 14
Kudos: 217





	to the curl of your lips, in the center of eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> *points to ferdibert* I just think they're neat :)
> 
> Title from Touch by Troye Sivan

Day 1

The Professor is gone. Hubert isn’t sure what to think, detached as always. But he feels grief in waves from where Lady Edelgard is curled up on his loveseat with a cup of Bergamot tea. There’s paperwork between her knees and her chest, filled with reports on the noble students of the academy quickly returning to their respective territories, but she just looks blankly at the firelight flickering on the surface of her tea.

After an hour or so, once Hubert has gotten through a few files from his various spies, he walks to Edelgard’s side. It takes her a moment to react, blinking back into focus and tilting her head towards him. She searches his face, and Hubert wonders what she’s looking for. Finally, she speaks:

“Do you miss her?”

_ Not as much as you, I’m sure _ , Hubert thinks.  _ Not as much as Bernadetta locked in her room, or Ferdinand out riding in the middle of the night. _ But that wasn’t the question, and it isn’t the answer she’s looking for. Byleth was a wonderful professor. She was skilled and rational, and Hubert respected her. There were so few they could trust, he and Edelgard, that having one of the rare exceptions vanish felt like a physical blow.

“Yes,” Hubert finally says. “She was worth missing.”

Day 2

Ferdinand falls off his horse. He’s fine, just evidently more clumsy somehow with the vacancy of the Professor. But Ferdinand is a  _ cavalryman _ .

“You’re a cavalryman,” Hubert voices aloud. He’s staring, unimpressed, as Ferdinand winces into a sitting position across from him in the dining hall. The hall in Embarr is smaller, but much more decadent. “All you do is ride a horse.”

Ferdinand huffs and rolls his eyes, even as he fails to stop a slight flush from staining his cheeks. Like ink spilled on paper, it spreads to the tips of his ears. Hubert allows his eyes to follow it, for a moment, as Ferdinand avoids eye contact in his embarrassment. “That is not  _ all _ I do. Just because you know fancy villain death magic does not mean lance and horse riding skills are frivolous.”

  
Ferdinand’s been…  _ interesting  _ since Edelgard’s plan fully came into motion. He seems to jump, sometimes, from uncertain to defensive and back to self-conscious. It hasn’t been long, little more than a month maybe, yet the proud glimmer of certainty that was once a constant in his eyes has clouded over. Perhaps he thinks about how he has stayed with them, loyal, even as the path before him revealed itself to be covered with blood, yet Edelgard had not trusted him with their plans. Yet Hubert had not trusted him at all.

“No,” Hubert responds simply. “No, they are not frivolous at all.”

Ferdinand’s eyes snap to his, widened with surprise. Ferdinand has never worn a mask, not really, and he’s terribly easy to read. Hubert sighs, as though it is some ordeal to pay him compliment.

“But do make sure to stay focused. Lady Edelgard’s hand-chosen Prime Minister can’t be seen falling off his own horse with no enemies around.”

Hubert stands up and turns to leave before he can see the spark flicker back into Ferdinand’s eyes.

Day 24

War, Hubert thinks, is such a dreary business.

Hubert has worked for years, bringing about much more bloody, much more sickening acts. He has memorized how many ways a human face can twist in terror; he knows what it is to see someone pale and fall before his eyes. He knows what it is to feel blood in the creases of his knuckles long after he’s washed them. But this has all been done in the shadows.

When the war is public, when it is known, it is complicated. It has a weight and an atmosphere that settles across Embarr like a fog. The energy of the Black Eagles he knew as classmates has left--not only due to some of their departures--but also because they have become somber. Hubert thought them rowdy, once, and naive. But this alternative is worse.

Ferdinand wears his heart on his sleeve, and it is quickly becoming a problem. He has begun taking tea with Hubert almost daily, a much-needed break that Hubert finds he can give himself. Ferdinand smiles and laughs and talks about mundanities. But sometimes he will suddenly stop, stare into space, and stop speaking for several minutes.

Like now.

He stares into his tea, some fruit blend or another much sweeter than the coffee Hubert brought along. And he keeps staring. Hubert has never minded silences, awkward or otherwise, so he merely watches Ferdinand. Suddenly he blinks back into himself, sees Hubert, and smiles.

“Sorry about that. I was lost in thought.”

Day 42

“I believe it is time we bring Ferdinand more closely into our exchange of information,” Edelgard is saying.

Hubert looks up from his notes, a single drop of ink slipping from his quill. It splatters onto the page, leaving an ugly stain on his notes. He places it carefully back into the inkwell and turns to his companion. The two are sitting across from each other at an unnecessarily large conference table, papers scattered across the surface, as they tackle their respective work. It had been a silent but productive couple of hours since either of them last spoke.

Hubert hums in response. “Has something happened to bring you to this decision?”

“I think we both know we made a mistake in not trusting Ferdinand with our plans when we were still at Garreg Mach. I believe it will be detrimental if we do not show more trust in him, display more of our hand.” As she speaks, Edelgard carefully organizes papers. There is never a spare moment in the day, and multitasking is a must during all conversations.

Hubert blinks, surprised. “You’re worried he might betray us, after all, if he believes we do not trust him,” he states.

“Certainly not,” Edelgard dismisses with a wave. “He has proven his loyalty, shown even greater by his continued service after he was left out of such an essential plot.” She looks up to him, making full eye contact. “But I believe it will be detrimental to us if we make the same mistake again. Ferdinand is not to be underestimated, and I worry our habitual lack of trust will leave so much of his potential untapped. His presence might not seem essential to win the war, but it might be our only chance of reestablishing political relations after all is done.” She pauses. “Not that he isn’t a wonderful cavalryman as well.”

“He fell off his horse last month,” Hubert replies blandly.

“Yes,” Edelgard responds. “Yet he was on his horse as I grieved within my chambers.”

Day 73

They start telling Ferdinand everything. Almost.

They don’t specifically tell him about the work Hubert does in the shadows, but Ferdinand is aware it exists and doesn’t seem upset when he receives no further details. Occasionally, Hubert will disappear for a few days. When he returns, Ferdinand inevitably appears to demand they have tea. Ferdinand will talk on and on about the drama Hubert missed, about the poor guy whose heart Dorothea just broke or the domestic dispute that almost broke out when Petra misworded something and threatened an important count. Hubert will wait for the questions to start, for Ferdinand to demand to know about the cup Hubert just slipped poison into or the neck Hubert last slashed with a sharpened blade, but they never come.

Instead Hubert smiles infinitesimally as Ferdinand rambles across from him about finding Lindhart sleeping in the gardens when they thought he was halfway across the Empire. Ferdinand stutters to a stop when he notices.

They stare at each other for a moment too long.

Ferdinand  _ winks _ . Hubert is horrified, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

Day 205

Hubert has just gotten out of a two hour strategy meeting, one-on-one with Edelgard. It was stressful and productive and overall everything it needed to be. But it was also exhausting, so much so that Edelgard had retired for the evening immediately after.

So exhausting that Hubert doesn’t even put up a half-hearted argument when Ferdinand enters his study without waiting to be let in. He’s lucky Hubert adjusted the magic in his lock to allow Ferdinand in, or else he would’ve been stuck whining outside like a lost puppy.

Maybe Hubert is the lucky one, actually.

Regardless, Ferdinand is in his study. He circles it, looking at the heavy volumes on the shelves--everything from magical tomes to literature to journals. Ferdinand has only been here on a few occasions, and once was merely to help Hubert move furniture. Magic helps little with Hubert’s arm and back strength.

“Well?” Hubert eventually asks. “Are you going to take a seat?”

Ferdinand smiles sheepishly as he takes a seat on the loveseat Hubert has for guests (a group that consisted entirely of Edelgard until this very moment). It’s set next to the fireplace, a couple yards from Hubert’s desk. Ferdinand stares at Hubert’s profile as he works for a few minutes, then asks, “Didn’t you just leave a meeting with Edelgard? I heard even she retired after that. You must give yourself a break soon.”

While Ferdinand was not privy to the meeting--it was much more focused on the underbelly of Edelgard’s operations--he was  _ informed  _ of it. Another small piece in the effort to include Ferdinand in their innermost circle. Apparently, Ferdinand takes this act of trust as another excuse to chide Hubert on his persistent habit of ignoring the concept of moderation.

Hubert levels him with the type of stare that would send Bernadetta running through the halls. Unfortunately, this does not apply to Ferdinand, who crosses his arms stubbornly in response.

“Did you really trespass into my office to lecture me?” Hubert asks, voice sharp.

Ferdinand scoffs. “I was hoping you would be resting, but worried knocking would disturb whatever work I correctly assumed you would be doing anyway.”

“Didn’t Dorothea get back recently from flirting some Alliance nobles onto our side?” Hubert asks, rhetorically. Hubert is fully aware of the locations of all their schoolmates, now allies. “Go entertain her.”

Ferdinand waves him off. “I welcomed her, but she got excited when I mentioned that Edelgard was taking the night off for once. Apparently, she wants to have a girls’ night and paint the Emperor’s nails.”

“How fun,” Hubert responds blankly. Though he’s sure he’ll see Edelgard smiling at her crimson nails the next time they meet outside of the public eye. He should be grateful to Dorothea, he supposes, but she’s far too much of a tease for Hubert to risk offering her any thanks.

“But then I realized that left _you_ Edelgard-less tonight,” Ferdinand states. “Which means someone had to come in here and force you not to work yourself to death.”

Hubert sighs, long and drawn-out. “Do you really believe Lady Edelgard of all people forces me away from my work?”

Ferdinand hums, thinking for a moment. “Perhaps she doesn’t force you away, but I’d think she encourages you to rest every now and then.”

Ferdinand’s right, which is very irritating to deal with even at the best of times. Hubert glares, but Ferdinand softens. The idiot is nostalgic, probably, thinking of their schoolboy quarreling. Hubert suddenly can’t bring himself to argue any longer.

“Just sleep soon,” Ferdinand says. Then he gets up and leaves, offering a wave as he goes.

Day 369

Hubert, Ferdinand, and Edelgard are all together when news of Dimitri’s disappearance, and likely death, reaches them.

They all stare, quite unprofessionally, at the messenger for about thirty seconds before Edelgard snaps out of it and dismisses her. She looks perplexed, like a solid piece of earth beneath her feet just slipped.

“We had heard he became troubled, after we declared war. Talking to nothing, hearing voices,” Ferdinand says weakly. It’s unclear if this is supposed to be comforting, since they would inevitably have faced Dimitri in battle.

Hubert sighs. “He was troubled even in school,” he says. “He acted too light-hearted and naive for a survivor of such a tragedy as Duscar.”

“Well,” Edelgard says simply. “I suppose all we can do is watch what happens with the political divide in the Kingdom forces.” She still looks a bit lost, and Hubert understands. Dimitri was a certainty, a man who was always to block their way. They were going to force their way through him and live with the weight of it. It should feel lighter with that inevitability gone. But the air feels heavy with the young King.

Perhaps he is haunting them.

But they have work to do, and soon enough they are gathering their things and heading off to their respective tasks. Ferdinand places his hand on Edelgard’s shoulder, briefly, in support. Hubert suddenly wonders if he’s the only one who truly thought Dimitri an enemy, and not just another schoolmate they left behind.

Day 780

Hubert was right, all along, to be wary of Dorothea.

One moment Hubert is taking tea with Ferdinand--an occasion that only becomes more pleasant as the routine continues--listening to the wind rustling through the gardens, and the next a chair is being dragged noisily across the bricks toward them. Ferdinand and Hubert both snap their heads up to find Dorothea crossing her legs in the seat placed next to them. She twists a lock of her hair around her finger as she asks, “So how are Edie’s right-hand and left-hand men doing? Still having your garden tea dates, I see.”

“Dorothea!” Ferdinand shouts, and Hubert immediately abandons all hope for a quiet, relaxing conversation spoken softly between him and Ferdinand. Who looks very flustered as Dorothea sticks her tongue out playfully at him.

“No one has any hot gossip on you,” she informs them. “So I’m here to get it myself.” Hubert is fairly certain she actually means that no one knows what Edelgard’s inner circle is really up to, ever, much less about their general wellbeing. He knows deep down she’s likely just being kind in her own way and checking in on them, but goddess she’s skilled at burying her sincerity under a multitude of implicative statements.

“We are both alive and well,” Hubert tells her. “Is that all you need to know? I’m sure you have many things you need to get done.” He smiles coldly.

And is promptly kicked in the shin below the table. Hubert grunts, sending Dorothea a surprised grimace. Her smile is ice, an incredible mirror to his earlier expression. Her voice is absolutely acidic when she replies, “Don’t go dismissing me so easily, dear Hubert. It’s rude.”

Ferdinand shoots his gaze to her. “Dorothea!” he shouts again, evidently just as appalled as Hubert.

Dorothea bares her perfectly white teeth at him in a dangerous grin. “If you keep shouting my name like that, Hubie’s going to get jealous.”   
  
Ferdinand finally shuts up, face crimson, and Hubert rests his face in his palms. Voice muffled against his skin, he mutters, “To what do we owe the  _ wonderful pleasure  _ of seeing you, Miss Arnault?”

“I love you boys,” she says simply, as though she did not just physically and emotionally attack them in the middle of the afternoon. “I want to catch up with you, but the only time either of you take a real break is tea with each other. And thus, I’m crashing your teatime.”

Ferdinand softens immediately, posture relaxing. Surely, he’s missed the easy conversations he had with Dorothea at the academy. Hubert is still dreading the rest of this encounter, but at least one of them is at ease. He straightens back up, and tries to reform some semblance of propriety in this conversation by asking, “Might we get you some tea?”

“I’ll be fine--I’m sure you’re both leaving soon anyway,” she says. Hubert is relieved, but then she steals his coffee to take a sip. The berry lipstick she’s wearing today smudges across his cup, but he can merely watch and sigh deeply. He doesn’t hate how Dorothea can obliterate the boundaries of formality among her close friends, and he’s somewhat glad to be in her orbit, but he simply isn’t sure how to respond to anything Dorothea has ever done in the entire time he’s known her.

Ferdinand looks amused, though, covering a smile and looking up at Hubert through his eyelashes. It’s unfairly endearing, and Hubert makes the drastic choice to snatch Ferdinand’s tea cup and take a sip of the too-sweet beverage. It’s to get back at him, but Ferdinand has gone pink again, his mouth open just slightly, and Dorothea stifles a laugh at their expense.

“I’ve missed you boys.”

Day 1009

“Hubert,” someone says, and he resists the urge to groan childishly. “Hubert, wake up.”

He blinks himself awake, albeit hesitantly, and immediately feels the soreness that comes with falling asleep on the hard wood of his desk. He really does groan then, cracking his neck, and then remembers that someone woke him.

Ferdinand’s looking at him, the corner of his mouth tipped down with concern. “I would’ve let you rest, but it looked like a terribly uncomfortable position to sleep in.”

Hubert lets out a breath of air, noticing the daylight slipping through his curtains. “What time is it?” he asks, irritation seeping into his voice. It’s annoyance with himself, which Ferdinand seems to immediately notice.

“Don’t,” he says simply, running his fingers through his hair. “Don’t get worked up about it. And go sleep in your bed.” Hubert looks at him pointedly. “Okay, okay,” Ferdinand allows. “It’s eight in the morning.”

Hubert rushes past him, papers haphazardly piled in his arms. He hears Ferdinand sigh, long and deep, as the door to his study closes behind him.

Day 1270

Hubert truly has no idea when his loveseat became public property.

Ferdinand had knocked on his door two hours ago, holding a stack of papers, demanding entrance into Hubert’s chambers because, “I have a lot of work tonight. You’re going to be working late in your personal office anyway, and neither of us has had enough human contact lately.” Hubert had decided his assassination two days prior probably doesn’t count, and then realized such a thought rather proved Ferdinand’s point. He opened the door wider and motioned Ferdinand in.

Hubert hasn’t looked up from his paperwork since. As he finally finishes, though, he glances up to find Ferdinand draped across the armrest. His hair is past his shoulders now, and it’s shockingly bright against the deep plum of the fabric. Hubert glances beside the unconscious Prime Minister to see several stacks of papers, many with Ferdinand’s signature already written in looping script.

Ever since their school days, Ferdinand’s signature has been ostentatious. Dramatic and round, barely fitting in the spaces provided. Hubert remembers the annoyance with which he forged it once, when he was eighteen. He can’t recall what he needed signed, or why he couldn’t simply ask Ferdinand to sign it himself.

Hubert walks over and picks up the only stack topped with an unsigned form. There aren’t too many pages, perhaps fifty in all, that Ferdinand has left. He looks back to the boy--the man--in question, who shifts slightly in his sleep.

He’s forged his signature once, Hubert supposes, so he can do it again. Or fifty more times.

Day 1271

When Hubert wakes, it is to the sound of a door softly shutting. Hubert startles, before remembering Ferdinand. He walks to the doorway, soft morning light drifting through the gaps in the curtains and lighting his study in uneven rectangles. Ferdinand is gone, of course, but he left a folded piece of paper on Hubert’s desk.

_ I truly hope I wasn’t too much of a bother to you. Thank you for your startlingly impressive yet illegal forgery of my name. I will see you later, my friend. _

_ Ferdinand  _

Day 1290

It’s become part of the routine. Ferdinand will knock on the study door, Hubert will allow him entrance, and after several hours his guest will be asleep on the loveseat. He had accepted it as simple exhaustion, something Hubert can relate to, until this moment.

Ferdinand shivers suddenly. Hubert looks up, expecting to see him startled awake. Instead he sees Ferdinand, still asleep, curling in on himself. His body is wracked with tremors, and Hubert immediately stands from his work.

He crouches next to the other man, places a hand on his shoulder. “Ferdinand,” he says softly, shaking him gently. “Ferdinand, wake up. It’s a dream.” A tear slips down his cheek, and Hubert is so startled he almost pulls his hand away.

“Ferdinand,” he repeats, a bit louder, and he pulls Ferdinand’s hands away from where they’re tucked against his chest. He uses his thumbs to rub soothing circles in the skin there. “It’s a bad dream, wake up.”

Ferdinand finally shudders awake, blinking away a wetness that Hubert ignores. He looks relieved, a hand coming up to brush Hubert’s bangs to the side with a tenderness Hubert has never known. Hubert just stares, and then Ferdinand recoils like he’s been shocked, expression mortified. “I apologize,” Ferdinand says quickly, straightening up on the couch and slipping out of Hubert’s grasp.

Hubert misses him, and it’s like a physical pain. Which is absurd, with Ferdinand still next to him. He swallows the feeling back and asks, “Night terrors?”

Ferdinand shrugs. “It’s a war, Hubert. I’m tired.” It’s an admittance to vulnerability, and Hubert recognizes this as the act of trust it is.

With great effort, he replies, “As am I.”

Day 1307

Edelgard visits him at night for the first time in about a month. They see so much of each other in the day, and Hubert often attends to her in her chambers, but Hubert’s doors are always open to her.

Hubert watches with an eyebrow raised in humor as she lets down her hair and shrugs off her cloak on her way to the loveseat, all but tossing herself onto it. Her hair, white as snow, glimmers across the dark fabric. It’s different than Ferdinand’s, silver where his is gold, and the fondness Hubert feels at seeing Edelgard like this is a familiar comfort.

“How has everything been, my friend?” she asks, turning toward him and giving him a tired smile. A stray lock of hair spills over her cheek.

“It’s been no more than two hours since we last spoke,” Hubert states flatly. Luckily, Edelgard has kept him as her closest companion for long enough that she knows to laugh. “But, if you must know,” he continues, “it would be in your Prime Minister’s best interest if we kept our conversation quiet.”

Edelgard’s eyes narrow, barely, before widening in realization. She stands abruptly, and Hubert finds himself feeling ashamed for an unknown reason. He hides his face in his palms and leans back in his chair, listening to her quiet footsteps approach the doorway to the bedroom. When he drags his hands down, after a long moment, she’s still standing there, tapping her foot. Hubert watches her, as he always does, and recognizes her fidgeting as an uncertainty in how to begin a conversation. He sees it often behind closed doors before meetings with foreign diplomats, but never in relation to himself.

She turns around, and now her eyes are  _ definitely  _ narrowed. She walks until she’s standing before his desk, arms crossed, and asks, “So why is our dear Ferdie sleeping in your chambers?”

“It’s a good thing he’s in the bedroom,” Hubert merely replies, “Or else the couch would have been very occupied tonight.”

Edelgard breathes in, very deeply. “Sure, Hubert. But  _ why _ is he there?”

“Who am I to understand the ways of the Prime Minister?” Hubert asks, before relenting. “I suppose it would be improper if anyone was to discover this, however. If you want to make sure this behavior stops, I will talk to him myself.”

Her expression softens, and her arms slip down to her sides. “There is no need. Nothing here is improper. I doubt you two could do an improper deed even at threat of death.” Hubert chooses not to point out that he has worked as her private assassin and heads a spy network that frequently blackmails and takes out threats and undesirables. She knows this already. “I’m happy he’s here, and I’m happy you two are so close. Overjoyed, even. I merely hope you don’t feel the need to hide it so--that you know there is no judgement from me over such a relationship.”

Hubert swallows. “I apologize, My Lady. While I fret over personal relationships and the liability they entail, I was under the impression you knew about Ferdinand’s and my friendship. We take tea and coffee together sometimes,” he tacks on at the end, even though he recalls seeing Edelgard pass them several times over the years.

Her mouth opens. Closes. She steps around the desk and lifts herself to sit on its surface, her feet just barely not touching Hubert’s leg. “Hubert, how did he end up in your bed?”

Hubert lowers his voice further. “Ferdinand kept coming at night to work on paperwork, but always fell asleep on the loveseat. After a while, I found that he has nightmares often now. He needs the companionship, I suppose, to keep them at bay. Anyway, it’s been many nights and I decided he might as well sleep somewhere appropriate for once.”

“Should I take this as a show of weakness in the Prime Minister?” Edelgard asks.

Hubert shakes his head quickly. “No, I don’t think so, Lady Edelgard. He is successful in completing all he must do, and then some. He is headstrong and spirited, and an asset in political relations that will only become more important as we forge on in this war. If his night terrors can be handled by simply allowing him to sleep in my chambers, then I hardly find it an issue.”

“Of course not,” Edelgard smiles, and it’s playful. Hubert doesn’t understand why. “Our Ferdie is incredibly more valuable than we realized, and only proves this more as time goes on. We would suffer without him. But, perhaps you especially.” She gives him a pointed look. “Regardless, where will you sleep?” The  _ and you  _ will _ be sleeping, Hubert  _ is implied.

Hubert shrugs. “On the goddess-forsaken loveseat you two so adore.”

“It’s the company, Hubert, not the gloomy furniture you picked out,” she replies, slipping off the desk once more in favor of said gloomy furniture.

“I didn’t buy that,” Hubert replies simply.   
  


Edelgard huffs. “No, I suppose you didn’t. You made Ferdinand help you carry it up from two floors down.”

Day 1312

Hubert has not slept in seventy-two hours.

Perhaps that’s exaggerating--he’s managed a few hour-long power naps, most of which were accidental. His body is screaming at him to sleep, but Hubert refuses. There’s plenty to do, as there always is, and letting himself sleep would allow too much time in his own head. If he were to lie down across his too-short loveseat, legs hooked on the armrest, he would merely end up staring at the ceiling. Thinking about the body that’s been occupying his bed every night, hair cascading across Hubert’s pillows, legs tangled in his sheets.

The door opens, and Ferdinand himself enters the study. It’s become so routine that Hubert merely glances up to him before returning to his work. For a long moment there is only the flipping of pages and the scuffling sound of Ferdinand removing his coat. Hubert is vaguely aware that Ferdinand is standing awkwardly by the door instead of going about his evening, but he doesn’t have the energy to bring it up. Eventually, Ferdinand walks further into the study, and Hubert assumes that’ll be the end of it.

There’s a rustle as Ferdinand steps around the desk. Hubert stubbornly focuses on the files in front of him, vision blurring from exhaustion, before inevitably looking up and,  _ oh _ .

Ferdinand's a lot closer than expected. He's leaning in, concerned, but there's an uncertainty to him. He slowly places one gloved hand on Hubert's face, rubs his thumb across his cheekbone. It's torture.

"What do you suppose you're doing?"

Ferdinand shrugs helplessly. "A little birdie told me that if I really wanted you to do something for me, all I had to do was get in your space a tad bit."

"A birdie?"

Ferdinand grins, bright and startling, and Hubert doesn't breathe as the other boy says, "An eagle."

It’s a bad joke, but Hubert exhales. And honest to goddess some of Ferdinand's bangs blow in response. He's even closer now, their foreheads are almost touching, and Hubert finally sighs. It's a large sigh, and he hopes Ferdinand realizes what an ordeal he is in general.

"And what is it you want from me?"

Ferdinand's thumb abruptly moves to the juncture of his chin and his neck, touching the pulse point there, and then he's sliding easily onto Hubert's lap. His ears are red, and his cheeks are flushed beneath his freckles. Hubert can see each and every one, this close, but that's hardly what his focus needs to be on. He resists the urge to ask,  _ what happened to propriety? _ and instead raises an eyebrow coldly, as though Ferdinand cannot feel his racing heart beneath his elegant fingertips.

"I do want something from you, Hubert," Ferdinand says, and he's looking down slightly now. He's measuring him, Hubert realizes, and then Ferdinand's tongue flicks over his bottom lip and Hubert can’t think of anything at all as his eyes follow it. “But then I need you to go to sleep.”

"Were you always this cruel, Prime Minister?" Hubert's voice is as even as ever, but Ferdinand brushes his lips against the corner of his eye. His breath catches. When Ferdinand pulls away again, he's all but smug with satisfaction. Hubert groans loudly, eyes closed, and leans his head back. "Okay, I'll go to sleep. Now what other nonsense did you want from me?"

"I want you to kiss me."

Hubert's eyes immediately snap open again, but now Ferdinand is avoiding eye contact. Huber reviews the information before him: Ferdinand is flushed and nervous and beautiful in Hubert's lap, his goddess-forsaken hair a tangle of brilliant orange across his shoulders. He's in his nightwear, Hubert realizes suddenly, a loose white shirt and soft pants. The hand that was on Hubert's face has moved to his collarbone, where Ferdinand nervously fidgets with the fabric of Hubert's neckline. Ferdinand just asked Hubert to kiss him.

Hubert surges up and does just that. His hand tangles in Ferdinand's hair as the other arm wraps around his waist. Ferdinand gasps into his mouth, like he's somehow surprised with this outcome, and Hubert has to refrain from snorting unattractively, busying himself instead with trying to make the other man gasp again. The hand on Hubert's chest splays out, and Ferdinand's other hand slips to the back on his neck. Hubert shivers, and he can feel Ferdinand smile against his lips.

Day 1313

After the next council meeting, Edelgard pulls him aside to bemoan various issues and the troublesome nature of several individuals. A few moments of this pass, in which Hubert ascertains that nothing of import is to be said, before Hubert takes advantage of a lull in her rambling.

"The Prime Minister said something interesting to me last night."

"Oh?" Edelgard asks. A teasing glint comes into her eyes. "Spending a lot of time with our dear friend in the evenings, are you?"

Hubert closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. "You both frequent my chambers in the evening of late, and I doubt my approval has any influence."

Edelgard smiles. "Dear me, Hubert, I didn't know my presence bothered you so."

Hubert immediately grimaces. "I apologize, Lady Edelgard, that is not what I mean to imply--"

"I know, I know," Edelgard waves him off. "Anyway, I've had my fun with you. What is it Prime Minister von Aegir said to you?"

"He said an eagle told him to get in my personal space."

Edelgard chuckles. Hubert takes a moment to appreciate her brief moment of lightheartedness, so rare before the professor and now rare again with her gone. It's this longing for Edelgard's general happiness that keeps him from getting defensive when she replies, "Oh, how dramatic. I merely told him, when he all but whined to me about your lack of sleep, that anything he asked you might be done if he were a bit closer with you.” She pauses. “Then I had to specify that I meant physically, because he became concerned I was implying you didn’t think of him as your  _ very best friend _ .”

"I thought it was fairly obvious I didn't dislike him," Hubert replies.

Edelgard narrows her eyes. "It's very obvious, but the both of you are dense and terrible." She begins walking down the hall. “Now, unless you plan to elaborate on what occurred last night--which I highly doubt--I’d like to get back to complaining about the Earl of Hevring. Who ever thought the day would come when I’d be eager for Lindhart to take his father’s place?”

Day 1328

Edelgard knocks on Hubert's door, which she never does. He's alarmed when he opens it to reveal her--she knows full well she is welcome to come and go as she likes. She says nothing and looks over Hubert's shoulder, before giving him a once-over.

"Good, you're respectable," she says, brushing past him into the candlelit room.

Hubert feels like five years have just been knocked off his lifespan. "What did you expect?" He asked cautiously.

Edelgard settles on the loveseat, draping herself across it casually, and replies, "I don't need to know the details of your private life with Ferdinand."

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert's voice comes out a strangled thing.

She looks up abruptly. "Wait. You did get together, right? Certainly you aren't so dense that you missed the point of Ferdinand approaching you the other night."

Hubert wonders when romantic pursuits became so mortifying. Perhaps they always were, and Hubert merely avoided them well enough not to notice. "No," Hubert says. "I don't believe there's a platonic excuse for slipping onto a man's lap and kissing him."

“Please know you may refrain from any further details,” Edelgard replies immediately.

Hubert smirks as he walks over to lean against his desk. “Well, I figured you should know since he claimed it was your suggestion that led him to action.”

Edelgard makes a decidedly displeased face. “Please refrain from speaking of me when you and the Prime Minister are getting intimate.”

Ferdinand chooses that moment to walk through the door, arms full of flowers--goddess knows why--and he immediately halts as he hears the end of her sentence. He’s as red as the poppies he carries, flowers which Ferdinand almost certainly isn’t aware symbolize death. Hubert has the sinking feeling the flowers are for him, actually. Which is sweet, but the timing is impeccable.

Day 1379

Ferdinand sits across from Hubert at tea again, his hair breaking the sunlight into pretty patterns across his face. He’s pressed one foot to Hubert’s under the table, who simply allowed it. Hubert takes Ferdinand’s hand in his--they’re alone after all, and softly kisses his knuckles as he looks up at him. Ferdinand sighs, and it’s calm and comforting and everything Hubert never thought he would have.

“ _ Finally! _ ”

They both startle, and Hubert tries to let go of his hand, but Ferdinand grasps it tighter. Their heads turn and it’s Dorothea, looking gorgeous and intimidating as always with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her presence is so great, so powerful, that it takes a second for Hubert to even notice Edelgard standing behind her, looking faintly amused.

Ferdinand, ever transparent, is waving air at his face with his free hand to try to cool his flushing cheeks. Hubert, ever stubborn, will just deny any claim that warmth filled his face as well. Luckily, Ferdinand speaks and makes a fool of himself before Hubert can suffer a similar fate.

“D-Dorothea, lovely to see you! And you--of course--Lady Edelgard!” He’s a stuttering mess, and Hubert would be embarrassed if he held anything but affection for the other man in his heart.

“Calm now, Ferdinand,” Edelgard smiles. “Dorothea is taking me on a stroll and quite literally demanded we pay you two a visit.”

“Of course she did,” Hubert mumbles, and Dorothea immediately shoots her gaze his way.

“I’m letting that go,” she says, voice level. “But only because I’m ecstatic you idiotic, dense excuses for men finally got your lives together. It was excruciating to witness. Terrible experience. Would not watch again.”

“You _ knew _ ?” Ferdinand asks.

Hubert huffs. “Of course she knew. She made pointed jokes--in the middle of the afternoon, mind you--about me wanting you to scream my name.” He regrets bringing it up as Ferdinand slams his head against the table, but hopes Dorothea will at least look ashamed at having this revealed in front of Edelgard.

But no. Dorothea just looks confident, and Edelgard looks like a proud sibling.

“Ferdinand, hun, you told me yourself,” Dorothea says, turning her gaze to him.

“When?!”

Dorothea groans, leaning against Edelgard for support. “Ferdie, you told me you thought of Hubert as a dreadful man, but that you’d rather like to spend all your days at his side.”

Hubert almost spits out the coffee he was attempting to drink.

“I didn’t even know then!” Ferdinand accuses. “That could totally be platonic.”

“Goddess,” Edelgard whispers, and she looks completely awed. “I’m not sure if I’m more surprised by how dense you are, or that you still called Hubert ‘dreadful’ as you were declaring your undying affection to Dorothea.”

Dorothea hums in agreement. “And I knew before that. The Professor knew, too, actually.” Hubert narrows his eyes in disbelief.

“There’s no way,” Ferdinand says, glancing at Hubert. “There’s no way.”

Something sad but fond transforms Edelgard features, a soft smile but glassy eyes. “The Professor definitely knew,” she says. “That’s why she always paired you for stable duty.”

Hubert meets her eyes, concerned, but she just shakes her head. “Anyway, Dorothea, let’s leave my poor overworked officials to the only break they seem to give themselves.”

Day 1724

Hubert wakes up immediately to the muffled click of the door. He stiffens, listening for movement. The only one not present with access to his chambers is Edelgard, but it’s the middle of the night. An intruder? Or perhaps it is Edelgard, bringing with her bad news.

Ferdinand moves beside him, rubbing his eyes and humming a bit. “Is something the matter, Love?” Hubert silences him with a finger to his lips, and tries not to get distracted when Ferdinand kisses it cheekily. Regardless, Ferdinand’s voice is hardly a whisper when he says, “Hubert, no one can get in here. You’ve made sure of tha--”

They both go rigid as footsteps reach their ears. A pacing, back and forth, back and forth. They glance at each other before getting up, slipping silently to the door together. The door is cracked, so Hubert presses two fingers to the wood and pushes just enough to leave a small view of the study. Edelgard is there, embraced in shadows, and Hubert immediately lets out a breath of air as he feels Ferdinand smile next to him.  _ See? _ he seems to say.  _ All safe. _

Edelgard turns, suddenly, noticing their presence. Her hair is loose, and it settles across her bare shoulders in tangled heaps. She’s wearing only a thin red slip, the same one she wears when Hubert attends to her in the morning. But to think she walked down the dark hallways so vulnerably makes something in Hubert’s heart clench. Edelgard immediately meets his eyes, and they stay static for several moments.

Then Ferdinand, brilliant Ferdinand, opens the door fully and waves his arms out theatrically. “Welcome, Edelgard. What brings our precious Lady out in the middle of the night to see us?”

Edelgard breaks eye contact with Hubert and offers the smallest, least convincing smile in human history to Ferdinand. “Thanks, Ferdie. I’m sure I’m a terrible bother, aren’t I?” She turns back to Hubert. “Especially to you, Hubie. You get so little sleep as it is. There’s no terrible news or anything, as I’m sure you were fretting over. I’m just…” Edelgard trails off. “I’m just having a moment of weakness I suppose.” Her smile falters, before she drops it altogether.

Hubert is never sure what to say in these scenarios, so he merely steps closer. Just like earlier days, when they constantly showed support through a silent and continued presence.

Ferdinand has other plans, apparently, because he’s thrown an arm around her shoulders and is leading her to the loveseat. “Well, my dear friend, if I have learned anything at all since the war formally began, it’s that this study is the perfect place for moments of weakness.”

“On Hubert’s moody loveseat?”

Ferdinand nods, sitting down with her. “On Hubert’s moody loveseat that I helped him move, and therefore have partial custody over.”

“Goddess, Ferdinand, it’s not a  _ child _ ,” Hubert groans, walking to them. There’s only room on the loveseat for two, so Hubert takes a seat on the armrest next to Edelgard.

Ferdinand throws a hand to his heart dramatically. “I would go to the court over this loveseat if you were ever to deny my visitation rights.”

It’s a ridiculous conversation, but the tension is leaving Edelgard’s shoulders, and her head rests against Hubert’s arm. So Hubert allows the absurdity, and replies, “And you believe you would win that case?”

Ferdinand opens his mouth, but Edelgard speaks first. She uses a voice of absolute authority as she states, “I do believe  _ I  _ would be the final judge in this case, as Emperor.” She pauses. “And Ferdinand is certainly owed all mutual custody privileges.”

Ferdinand leans across Edelgard to grin at Hubert. Hubert levels him with the least impressed expression he can muster. He feels Edelgard shake with silent laughter against his arm, and allows his head to fall atop hers. Their own bubble of peace in the midst of the war’s chaos.

Day 1823

“I’m headed for Garreg Mach tomorrow,” Edelgard says as the three of them sit in front of Hubert’s fireplace. Hubert turns from where he was watching the light flicker yellow in Ferdinand’s hair, tilting his head slightly.  _ Oh right _ , he realizes. In just over a day it will be...

“Ah, yes, the would-be Millenium Festival,” Ferdinand replies. He’s soft and open as he swirls the wine in his glass. He looks to Edelgard, affection clear in his expression. “I was planning on going, as well. We did promise, after all.”

Two sets of eyes look to Hubert, lavender and amber. He looks between them. “How nostalgic,” he says simply, but there’s a weakness in his voice that makes them smile victoriously. They know he’ll be coming. “I don’t think any of our other old classmates are in Embarr at the moment, though.”

Edelgard shrugs. “It was supposed to be a reunion. If they remember, they’ll come. I just hope…” she trails off, but then shakes her head. “Never mind--it’s a foolish thought.”

Ferdinand and Hubert look at each other knowingly.  _ She’s hoping the Professor will reappear. _ Edelgard sees this, and promptly shoves them both on the shoulder.

“Anyway,” Edelgard continues. “It’ll take about two days to get there, so we should leave by mid-morning. Somehow I trust you two have already made preparations.”

She isn’t wrong, so all three remain for a peaceful moment in the midst of the crackling fireplace.

25th Day of Ethereal Moon

The Black Eagles all make it to Garreg Mach, but it’s hardly the most startling surprise of the day.

The Professor--Byleth--truly does reappear. She hasn’t aged a day, and claims to have spent the last five years in a sleep. She looks at them all closely, and Hubert had forgotten how piercing her gaze could be. Then she just looks proud, and her features turn soft.

Edelgard is beside herself, all of them can tell, and Ferdinand shamelessly hooks his chin on Hubert’s shoulder as they both watch her struggle to keep calm. Her fingers twitch at her sides, like all she wants to do is reach out. She’s afraid, Hubert realizes. After all the harsh realities they’ve faced, it’s hard to imagine the truth as something kind. Hardest for Edelgard, Hubert realizes, whose last five years haven't been lit by small moments of a love requited. Who has ached at night slowly losing the memory of her beloved’s face.

Byleth looks at the two suddenly, their proximity, and then raises an eyebrow at Hubert. She smirks, and Hubert realizes she’s silently teasing him. It hasn’t even been an hour since her return.

Ferdinand notices, kissing his jaw before announcing, “We had to deal with those bandits earlier, but we don’t really know if there’s more. Maybe you should take Byleth around the perimeter, Lady Edelgard.” It isn’t subtle at all, and Hubert coughs to cover up a chuckle.

Edelgard flushes, and Hubert isn’t sure he’s ever seen her bashful before. It’s unguarded in a way she hasn’t been since she was a child, and Hubert is happy for it. And then Edelgard is nodding and leading Byleth down the hall, in the crumbling halls that held their youth

Dorothea already looks like she's scheming something as she watches Byleth take Edelgard’s hand right before they disappear from sight, and then she leans over and whispers something to a very baffled Petra. The war has gone on five years already, and they have yet to face the obstacles of their own former schoolmates, whose blood will doubtlessly stain their hands eventually. None of them are naive, though, least of all Ferdinand. But his eyes are alight with his dreadful optimism, and his body is warm where he leans against Hubert.

Maybe, just maybe, the two of them will make it out of this war alive, together. They’ll pick up the broken pieces and reassemble each other in the quiet hours after the sun sets, and wake up beside each other in the morning.

It’ll be worth it in the end.

  
  



End file.
